


missing bedrolls

by voltaggia



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, raaaarepaaaaaair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltaggia/pseuds/voltaggia
Summary: "Morrigan noticed a smaller mess of pages just a couple of steps away, one stained with a large blob of ink and… was that drool? Gods, how humiliating, she really had fallen asleep."
Relationships: Merrill/Morrigan
Kudos: 4





	missing bedrolls

_"Blasted damnation!"_

It all started with Flemeth's return. Morrigan was shaken as she heard of this, as she heard of the Dalish worshipping her… _"mother"_ under the name "Asha'bellanar," quite literally the "woman of many years." What bothered her most was the fact that they had given her the title freely, unaware of the secret that kept the former Witch of the Wilds physically intact for so long.

Even though the now deceased Warden had managed to acquire Flemeth's grimoire during the Fifth Blight, reading the single leftover book itself now felt almost… pointless. Morrigan knew the secret to her lifespan, but now what she knew was like a leaf to a much larger tree. A _disturbing_ one, at that.

So she'd ventured into the Brecilian Forest once again after many years, deep into the ruins where her old party settled Zathrian's antics over a decade ago. The Dalish that once settled in the forest left just months after the fifth Blight's end, yet it appeared as if they'd left behind some generous archives. Books, altars, dubious racks of vials and other abandoned research equipment in other forms were strewn about; all of what was just what she needed.

\------

Morrigan had spent countless hours in the ruin, into nighttime as single beams of tree-clouded moonlight now seeped through the cracks in the ceiling. The last candle she'd packed, supposedly 'everlasting' as described by the merchant had burnt down into an irritating puddle of tinted purple wax, the fire long gone.

The witch's eyes ached, her joints riddled with stiffness, and she'd nearly gone numb from the occasional chills flowing through the fractures in the foundation. But she still hadn't found even a scrap of vellum in the startlingly large pile of tomes, standard indexes, even a few terribly written novels. Annoyed, she turned another page in yet another good-for-nothing index before sighing.

The ache in her eyes progressively got worse with the lack of light save for the middle of the room, but even so some of the pieces she'd read agitated her eyes by the obnoxious patterns of ink blots and clouded words. So she stood back up, sighing with irritation as she looked around the room for more candles. The wood was too moist, and while she did have the ability to summon a small flame in her hands, Morrigan decided this was quite unwise as many of the objects were inflammable.

The young witch stood on the edges of her feet, crouched under tables and checked every crevice for even the smallest candle to light and set in the middle of the room, but no luck.

On one particular bookshelf, however, a suspicious silvery glint shined once she'd hit a certain spot towards one of the other doors. _And what could that be?_ At this point, she didn't care if a monstrous spider hopped out of one of the many passages; she just wanted some sort of distraction from her countless hours of scavenging.

Morrigan slowly approached the glint, reaching out to touch the book carefully before giving it a light tug. Just as she did so, a paralysis glyph sprang up under her as she turned, followed by a small group of shades and a single desire demon emerging from the corners of the room.

"Oh, of all the- blasted damnation!" she cried, struggling to free herself without success. This was it. This was where her journey ended, she monologued, as she was frozen in place while the offender's glided toward their prey slowly. Closing her eyes, she waited for her death to come.

"May the Dread Wolf have mercy on you, because I certainly won't!" a female voice shouted from the entrance, followed by quick footsteps.

A grunt and a slicing sound sounded, and an earthy green light pulsed on the floor with incredible force. The crowd of enemies collapsed and flew backward with deafening screeches, before vanishing into the void completely. Morrigan fell forward, ready to fire as a slim, feminine elvish form rushed towards her.

"Setheneran, are you alright? What are you doing here?" the new figure rushed, backing up as the witch dusted herself off and stood up quickly. Great, a blood mage. "I am perfectly fine, I could've handled that myself." Morrigan lied, slightly embarrassed at the fact that she'd been outdone by a class she'd always thought of as weak.

"O-Oh, I'm sure you could have, you look very capable of doing so, but you were paralyzed so I thought- oh, I'm rambling again, aren't I, I am so sorry- but you don't look like one of my kind, you don't have the pointy ears and vallaslin, not to be rude, of course- b-but what _are_ you doing here?" the elf rambled on, stuttering and tripping over her own words as she did so.

"Do not hurt yourself, stranger. I am not one of your kind. And I have my ways. As for what I am doing in what is no longer the property of your people, 'tis partially none of your business. But what I will say is that I am looking for the grimoires of deceased mages for... research." Morrigan explained.

"Well, then you've come to the right place, human. Allow me to help, I come to these archives quite often." the elf chimed, before searching the shelves and making small enthusiastic messes. Oh, this was going to be a tiring night.

\------

The witch woke up to the sight of the large emerald-eyed blood mage and her head in the talkative stranger's lap, as well as warm sunlight peeking out of the cracks and landing on her arms. The elf sighed softly while looking around, having just awoken, before her gaze eventually landed on the witch. "O-Oh, hello!" Morrigan, disheveled and somewhat well rested, snapped up immediately from her position, wide-eyed.

"And just what was my head doing in your lap?! What are you getting at?!" the witch cried, face flushed and arms crossed as she started to stand up. The stranger rushed to her feet, face bright with shock. "B-by the Dread Wolf, I am so sorry! I-I was up all night doing some translations, a-and you fell asleep, and I- your head was on the ground, I figured you could use a pillow, oh Creators, I a-am so so sorry-" the elf squeaked, covering her beet red face with her hands.

Truth be told, Morrigan's neck usually cramped terribly when she would sleep on the ground, and she'd forgotten her bedroll; she packed lightly, as she didn't think she would stay overnight in the ruins. And when she had woken up, she was surprised at the softness under her, and her neck didn't hurt one bit. So she just turned around looked everywhere but behind her, arms crossed with insecurity.

But as she looked down and in front of her, she noticed a scattered mess of neatly and comprehensive written notes, and a horrifyingly large pile of decorated grimoires of various sizes beside it. Had the stranger done all of this herself?

Morrigan noticed a smaller mess of pages just a couple of steps away, one stained with a large blob of ink and… was that drool? Gods, how humiliating, she really had fallen asleep.

"I…" she started. The witch didn't know where to start. It was all remarkable to her. She skimmed through the pages slowly. Her questions were all answered in the mess the elf had made, on pages filled to the brim with words, back to back. Sighing, she turned back to face the elf, whom now looked down at the ground with her hands behind her back, and slowly approached her.

"Hey."

"I'm… sorry. I should've asked first, I could've looked for something else for you to use as a pillow, but I-"

"Do not worry about it."

"...What?"

"Do not worry about it, friend. You have truly outdone yourself. You may call me Morrigan, but nothing more. And you are?" the witch asked while trying to make eye contact with the stranger, watching her every move.

"M-Merrill, formerly Keeper Marethari's First, nice to meet yo-." Merrill mumbled slightly, looking at the human before freezing up in shock. Morrigan hugged the blood mage close, holding the hug before letting go slowly and setting her hands on the other's shoulders.

"Thank you." the witch said with a slight voice crack, smirking lightly. "I... shall get going. I have everything I need now, and I believe 'tis time I returned to my home. Thank you, Merrill, again." she called, as she gathered up everything and put what she needed into her small empty pack. "I do not know if I will come back, or if I decide to, when. Farewell for now." Morrigan slipped on her bag and started up the stairs, yet froze at the exit.

"Wait!"

"Mm?"

"...Could you send a signal when you do?"

"...I shall try." Morrigan replied, smirking back at Merrill before she left.


End file.
